Four hundred or so people lived in Knockemstiff in 1957, nearly all of them connected by blood through one godforsaken calamity or another, be it lust or necessity or just plain ignorance.
I'm not really a good reader. What I mean is, I think I'm not one of those people who can read a story and analyze it just like that.
When I first started out, I was trying to write stories about nurses and lawyers and a lot of people I didn't know anything about, and they just weren't working.
A lot of people get the wrong impression, think there's something romantic or tragic about hitting bottom.
Some people were born just so they could be buried.